


Black, White and Shadowy

by Autumn_Llleaves



Series: The Chronicles of King Daeron the Third [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Belligerent Sexual Tension, F/M, Forbidden Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-15 04:43:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3433982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Autumn_Llleaves/pseuds/Autumn_Llleaves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She has done nothing but run out of money with a still incomplete assignment. It seemed a harmless idea to cut off the purse of some young fool, just come from Oldtown. Too bad she didn't bother to have a better look at him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black, White and Shadowy

Linn was her name at present. Linn the moneylender's widow, rich as a Lannister. A pity her disguise turned dangerous, after she had spent too much on a rare venomous herb from Yi Ti. She had only a few coppers left.

Linn sat on a bench and thought of it. Her target, a wealthy Lyseni courtesan, was staying at the other end of the city. In the evening, at sunset, she was due to leave for Lys. Linn had no money for a boat and no time to walk all the way on foot. Besides, when she gets there, she'll need a different face. The courtesan had agreed with her that she wouldn't wait. If she was a debtor, that would have been an excuse for Linn to chase here even outside Braavos, but the Lyseni hadn't loaned any money yet. She'd grow suspicious if Linn goes after her.

The girl glanced at the newly arrived ship at the harbor, still trying to figure out what to do.

Suddenly it dawned on her. The ship! Of course! It was from Oldtown, she noted, spotting the sigil of House Hightower. Probably full of rich idiots eager for a life in an exotic charming land.

Linn took a pair of scissors out of her pocket and checked their sharpness. Cut off a purse and be gone before anyone realizes. Easiest thing in the world.

She strolled towards the crowd of the ship's passengers. One in particular caught her eye. A pale plump youth of no more than twenty, clad in a maester's robes but with no chain on his neck. A novice from the Citadel, then, and not a very smart one. Arya's eyes went to a large bag the youth was clutching in his hand. Full of money, obviously. Enough to pay for a boat at least.

Onwards. _Quiet as a shadow_. The novice was in no hurry, obviously amazed by the unfamiliar Braavosi landscape. A part of her that she tried to ignore felt sorry for the boy, as it would be for any stupid person. But Linn wasn't going to be stopped because of it. An inexperienced fool is the best option. The other passengers were lordlings with escorts or sellswords looking for better employment. Such people could notice her and make trouble. Nothing she couldn't handle, but time was precious to her.

She rubbed the scissors with oil and advanced towards the boy's back. One silent cut, and she had the purse in her hands. The boy never even blinked.

Relieved, Linn hurried to the nearest boats. There were mostly copper coins in the bag, but, as she had predicted, it would be enough. 

Standing in the queue for the boarding, she concentrated on the assignment. It must be quick. The courtesan had good guards. They wouldn't save her, though. Linn was going to swiftly push one or two leaves of _ar vev_ , the Yi Ti herb, into the woman's mouth, and she would be doomed from that moment. Serves her right. She was a cruel, manipulative woman, who ruined many lives... It wasn't Linn's right to judge, but she couldn't help it.

Gushes of fresh sea wind, remnant of some horrible Narrow Sea storm, blew the clouds away from the sky, and Braavos had a rare opportunity to bathe in Southern sunlight. The heat quickly increased, it was midday. Linn absentmindedly took off her coat  **–** and felt like she wasn't in Braavos, but in the Lands of Always Winter. It took her all her courage not to scream in panic. The coat was too light. _Ar vev_ , the priceless poison that she was to bring in the House of Black and White after giving the gift to the courtesan – _ar vev_ was gone.

Running back to the harbor as fast as her feet could carry her, Linn thought frantically about it. Someone had taken the herb – it wasn't just lying in her _inner_ pocket, it was _tied_ and _glued_ to it for safety, it couldn't fall out by itself. Now the pocket was a little moist with a substance that faintly smelled of tangerines. The girl recognized it: it was actually the mixture that could dissipate her sort of glue.

But why? Why would even a skilled pickpocket take _ar vev_? Only the Faceless Men, a few mages from Yi Ti, and few other people with power akin to theirs knew about it. To a layman's eye, it looked like dried flowers, a bit like daisies. Mayhaps the thief hadn't looked at it properly and thought that the only thing that could be so well concealed was coin or gems.

Worst of all, the girl would now have to face the kindly man somehow... She imagined saying to him:

"I am sorry, my pocket was picked, and _ar vev_ which was worth a fortune for us is lost."

Arya Stark imagined further what the kindly man would do to her. 

Then she saw _it_.

The Citadel novice still walking around the harbor, whistling carelessly – with the precious package of _ar vev_ clenched in his hand.

What could this mean?! Was she mislead by this appearance that hid a cunning thief? It couldn't be! Yet again, how would any thief, no matter how cunning, know of this poison?

Whatever. In a case like this, the courtesan could wait. Arya crept after the novice, calculating. Unexpectedness would be the best technique. Yes, just that. Jump forward, snatch the herb and storm away.

She made no sound at all, of that she was sure, but somehow the youth seemed to sense her presence and began to walk faster, leaving the harbor. She followed him.

He walked faster and faster, almost running, and soon she lost him from her sight, as she couldn't risk being noticed for sure. Arya walked where his footprints were leading her.

In the end, she came to a large inn – and was momentarily distracted from her chase by seeing a luxurious boat stopping by. Out of it stepped (the girl stood still in her tracks) no one else but the Lyseni courtesan. What now? Only the day before she distinctly said to Arya that she would be at home until sunset... 

Anyway, she disappeared at the inn, and Arya waited, trembling with both excitement and unease from the whole adventure. She had Needle ready in her hand for the thief, should he come out first, and if the Lyseni did, she would simply push her into the canal. No more elaborations. She had to come to the kindly man with the _ar vev_ and a job done.

The courtesan left surprisingly soon, and the instant she was in the street, Arya saw that someone had done the job for her. The woman was looking healthy as for now, but her eyes grew paler, her face redder, and there was a noticeable tremor in her hands. All of this – the first signs of _ar vev_ taking effect.

"An accident? Coincidence? Or else..." Arya thought, now utterly confused, and slipped inside the inn. Well, at least she was one trouble less.

"Is a novice maester from Oldtown staying here?" she asked the keeper, who nodded:

"First room over there, good lady. But what do you..."

Throwing him a handful of coppers, Arya simply flew upstairs and banged on the door. The pale boy opened it and looked at her, frowning slightly. _The idiot._

"Where is the herb?" she hissed, not bothering with formalities.

He closed the door and showed the package to her.

"Give it back now! I'll give you a whole purse of money if you hand it over right this moment!"

"My own money?" he laughed. "A fair deal indeed."

Arya unsheathed Needle, furious:

"If you don't give it, you'll regr..."

Everything happened out of the blue. Her hand was twisted, and Needle fell on the floor with a cling. Her legs were pinned to the floor with such force that she couldn't move them. And the _ar vev_ was held less than an inch away from her own mouth. The pale boy was towering over her, his silly face a contrast to his sharp, intent eyes.

"Take this thing off," he commanded.

Oh, so this is it! The fear and shock gone, Arya almost laughed in his face. She knew this type of men well enough. As soon as he saw it was a girl who stole his purse, he probably got the idea to blackmail her into his bed. All the worse for him. No man, especially a youth like this one, could control himself when taking a woman. She would escape with ease, if she would only pretend to yield for a split second.

Freeing her hand from his grasp, she began to slowly unbutton the collar of her shirt.

"Not _this thing_ ," he chuckled. "At least, not now. _That's_ what I meant." With these words, he ran his hand through her hair and, before she knew it, pulled off the face of Linn the moneylender. Arya caught her breath as she realized she had her true appearance now.

Almost lazily, the novice stood up and caressed his own skin, revealing a handsome face with long flowing hair, red on one side and white on the other. Arya gasped, unsure whether to feel infuriated or overjoyed. Maybe both. This person, who introduced her to the Faceless, whom she hadn't seen for years, certainly hadn't lost his fondness for teasing. 

"Jaqen!" she cried. "It's you! Why didn't you reveal yourself earlier?"

"A man wanted to see how trained a girl has become," his voice was back, soft and musical, and the accent of Lorath. "A girl has mastered many traits, a man knows now."

"You... you... you recognized me in the harbor?!"

"Pate the novice wasn't observant, but this man was. Hadn't a man said already that clever girls go barefoot?"

"No one else notices me!" she said, determined not to let him win it. She was breathless from the chase and the fight, and him staring at her only made it worse. Why didn't his eyes change along with his faces?

"A girl is right, a man admits. Since she managed to stay alive so long."

Still wishing to give him a good kick or two, Arya defiantly looked at him straight in the eyes:

"You gave the gift to the courtesan?"

"Aye, a man did. He said that his wife is coming earlier that he'd anticipated and that he would have to postpone using the woman's services. He gave her a cup of tea with the herb, and she left so soon."

" _I_ was scheduled to give her the gift!"

"A man happened to be near at hand. The kindly man doesn't care which of his friends gives it, as soon as it happens."

His teasing voice was worse than anything.

"You are... you are..." Arya struggled to think of a word. Why did his presence make her so weak? She was still trembling, now she didn't know for what reason, and felt almost unbearable heat down in her stomach. Did he manage to push this damned herb into her mouth? "You are worse than in Harrenhal!"

"No one stays the same in this world," Jaqen observed philosophically, grinning at her. "A girl is lovelier than in Harrenhal."

"Jaqen H'ghar, you are horrible!"

His teasing grin vanished, and he turned cool and polite:

"It is time for a man and a girl to get back to the House. The gift was given, and the kindly man needs to have the herb."

They left through the inn's back door, unnoticed. Jaqen never spoke a word until they reached the House, and Arya, flustered and angry, didn't know why she felt even more enraged at him.

* * *

This evening, Arya met Jaqen again on the third floor of the House. She came there just in time to see him choosing and putting on a new face, that of a golden-haired man in his mid-thirties. 

"Arven Lannister of Lannisport at your service, my lady," he bowed, smiling.

"What have you been doing after Harrenhal?" Arya demanded.

"Completing the assignment."

"Jaqen! You speak..."

"Arven, my lady."

"Stop it, I will not remember every damned name of yours! You speak so little that one would think you don't want to talk to me. As far as I remember, you called me your friend."

"I still do, lovely girl," he took her hand, and Arya blushed, recalling the day's events. "My assignment is a curious story. I was paid by Stannis Baratheon to give the gift to Randyll Tarly's eldest son. Stannis was going to trick Randyll into swearing oath to him, blaming Renly's men for Samwell Tarly's death. Samwell Tarly had joined the Night's Watch (forced to join, better to say), and I planned on intercepting him there. Thanks to my previous assignment (giving the gift to an influential one from Lorath), I ended up in the cells and was sent to the Watch."

"And then, after Harrenhal?"

"I finally caught up with Samwell Tarly at the Citadel, but practically at the last moment Stannis sent me a raven, unsaying the name. Having nothing more to do in Oldtown, I returned here."

Why would Stannis Baratheon unsay any name? Arya wondered to herself. He was a ruthless man, as she had heard many times.

"The lovely girl in the meantime journeyed through the Seven Kingdoms, didn't she?" Jaqen asked, moving closer. "First with the Brotherhood Without Banners, then with the Lannisters' Hound."

Arya stared at him:

"How do you know? You've been tracking me?"

"It's easy to know. You used the same face all the time. And you are not a usual sort of girl. People you meet talk of you for a long while. Already when I boarded the ship, I knew I'd meet you in Braavos."

"I'm glad you gave me the coin," Arya nodded. "This is just the place for me in these times."

"I can see it. You belong here now, lovely girl," he stroked her cheek.

"Why do you call me lovely?" she protested feebly, feeling the heat from earlier returning. "I have no face."

"Why do you call me Jaqen?" he smirked back. "I have no name."

She was trying to formulate an answer, when he drew her to him and kissed her on the mouth. _How dare he!_ was her first thought. _He_ is _no better than other men after all!_ She punched him, tried to push him away, but the kiss only intensified.

"Your eyes and face betray you, lovely girl," he whispered into her lips, and she couldn't deny it, not when she felt the same excited trembling as before, only increased tenfold, hundredfold. "Everything shows," he pulled away, but his now green-eyed stare almost made up for the lack of his touch. "I've wanted you in Harrenhal already. Even before it. Practically as soon as I guessed you were a girl."

Arya's heart fluttered. Never a romantic like her sister, she didn't expect to receive declarations like this. Not of love, but the nearest to it you could hear from a Faceless.

"That's why you offered to take me with you?"

"Do you think we take every serving girl into our confidence?" he laughed, and Arya laughed with him. But then she stopped abruptly as she realized it was no joking matter. However innocent she used to be, she had learned enough of what's what in the world. She knew full well what Jaqen was getting at.

Inexplicably, she didn't feel as angry as she wanted to be. She _was_ drawn to him, after all. She had missed him. He most definitely wasn't the kind of man to expect ladylike behavior, courteous words and a flow of children! She didn't want to fall in love – she saw much of it because of Sansa and was certain she didn't want to end up like her – but _this_ was something she was ready to try. At least to try.

As Jaqen, quick to understand her like always, leaned to kiss her again, Arya knew what kept worrying her:

"But... is it permitted here? If the kindly man objects... where would we hide in the House of Black and White?"

"In the shadow, lovely girl," he answered, grasping her hips. "In the shadow."

* * *

**Two months later**

A captain who made his fortune selling medicines of suspicious nature was dead. Stung by a bee right in the neck. Such a pity.

Throwing away the paper that used to contain the tears of Lys, Salie, for this was her name, a poor wine-seller's daughter, walked away from the ship and to a small dirty tavern. 

"Wine, cheap wine!" she offered a box full of bottles to the tavern-keeper, who sneered at her:

"That ain't no wine. It's water, it is, you keeps it in red glass. I ain't very rich, but my wine's better."

"Then can I have some of yours? And a steak? I'm starving," Salie made a pathetic face.

"Told ya mine's better."

She gave him a few coins and walked inside the tavern. Spotting a table where only one seat was occupied, she went to it.

"May I?" she asked the sailor who was sitting there, a burly blond man with sharp eyes. Blue eyes.

"Certainly, girl," he smiled widely and looked at her appraisingly. She was pretty, she knew it. Black curly hair and pink cheeks.

The tavern-keeper brought the steak and the wine. As Salie tried to cut the meat, which felt more like a bone, she felt a hand on her knee.

Salie would have been frightened, but Arya Stark let out a contented sigh.

"Try to look more shy," she felt more than heard a whisper at her ear. "An honest girl mustn't be so pleased at being fondled by a drunken sailor."

As much as she didn't want it, she flinched away and sat on another chair.

"Why so stubborn, lovely girl?" the sailor called loudly, eliciting roaring laughter from the rest of the tavern guests. "It was you who came to my table."

"I think I am going," Arya said, trying to feign a look of indignation. "I will not be insulted..." Jaqen pulled her onto his lap and silenced her with a kiss, his free hand resting at her skirt.

"Why don't we finish the dinner and find some quiet shadowy corner, sweet girl?"

Stopping the pretence, Arya nodded, nestling herself in his arms. In the House of Black and White, each of them was no one, forbidden to have any personality, forbidden to keep any belongings. Here, in the shadowy places of Braavos, things were very much different.

"Who are you, sweet girl?" Jaqen asked, stroking her shoulders.

She looked up at him, remembering him looking at her through the cage, him biding farewell to her in Harrenhal.

"Arya Stark of Winterfell," she said, raising her chin. He gave her a fond and proud look:

"A man knows."

 


End file.
